Fracture: The Rise
by toLockAHeart
Summary: BrushClan, CliffClan, PlainsClan, CaveClan, and LostClan are stuck in an uneasy peace following moons of battles. Desperate to end the bloodshed, when word begins to spread that the dangers of war may not be past, tensions begin to rise and conflict once again stirs. This is no prophecy, no power, no destiny. Only a fracture. And a rise.
1. Preface

**A/N:** **Sorry for posting this a day later than I intended. I meant to post this yesterday but my friends and I made a split-second decision to go to Disney yesterday instead of today and we were there for over 12 hours; I thought 11:00 might be a little late to post, so I decided on today. I'll post the first chapter tomorrow.**

* * *

 **Preface**

"It was a dark and stormy night."

"I thought it was a calm night, with a really bright moon!"

"Quiet Cragkit, let Screeheart tell the story!"

The two quarreling kits glared eat each other, their nearly identical gray-and-white coats revealing them to be littermates. Close by, three other kits watched the two argue before glancing at the ancient elder in from of them.

Screeheart, an elderly she-cat with a pelt of creamy-gray sliced through with dark stripes, was watching the two kits with her warm golden eyes. She reached forward with one of her darker-colored legs to bat at the two fighters.

"Hush, kits. Cragkit, you should not have interrupted me while I was telling a story, it is rude to disrespect your elders. Wavekit, do not speak so harshly to your brother. What he says is true. Many times the elders say the beginning of the Fracture began with a calm night."

"So why don't you?" A tabby kit stood up, moving closer so Screeheart could wrap her thick, darker-colored tail around her.

"Because Fallkit, I should know what that night was like better than any alive." The five kits all looked up, enraptured. "Why is that so? Because, little one, that was the night I was born."

The kits all blinked before scooting closer to listen better when Screeheart began again.

"It was a dark and stormy night. The nights to follow would not be much different."

* * *

Screeheart watched as the kits scampered off. Cragkit and Wavekit were pouncing on each other and causing a small raucous. Their mother quickly ran from the nursery to collect her two errant kits and shoo them inside with a scolding.

 _Kits,_ Screeheart mused ruefully.

"I have a feeling those little ones will be back for that story soon."

Screeheart watched as Dolphintail sat down with a huff. The gray-blue she-cat began licking her mangled back leg.

"I know. That's why I always wait to tell them when they'll soon be out of the nursery."

Dolphintail purred in amusement. "Cunning as ever."

Screeheart flicked her tail in agreement.

"I wonder if you'll ever tell them the true story of what happened?"

The two she-cats starred at each other. Screeheart flicked her ears and Dolphintail's paw twitched.

"Or not," the gray she-cat muttered.

Screeheart shook her head. "There are some things that should be left to the past."

"And there are some things that should never be forgotten. Who are we to decide which one?"

A growl rose in Screeheart's throat and she stood up. "We are the ones who survived. That's all those kits need to know." She began padding toward their den's entrance.

"That's all we thought we needed to know too."

Dophintail's sentence hung in the air, and Screeheart couldn't deny it.

Screeheart left the den and went to sit outside the CliffClan camp, watching the waves and clouds with a watchful eye.

"A storm?"

Screeheart turned her head to watch a cat approach.

The young blue-gray she-cat looked too wary for her age. Screeheart had been present at Brightmoon's brith, watching and encouraging the youthful leader's mother through her first, and only, littler of kits. Part of the elder still saw the weak, tiny kit who many hadn't though would survive, and it was hard to image that little one now leading a clan.

Screeheart flicked her tail to say no. "Probably not for another half-moon. Maybe some rain, but no storms."

Brightmoon was clearly relieved. Screeheart would be too if she had become a leader two moons ago after only five moons as a deputy.

"May I ask what you were so troubled about?"

Screeheart purred in amusement. "You may ask, but that doesn't mean I'll tell."

The young leader ducked her head in embarrassment. Screeheart decided to take pity on her and answered the question.

"I'm sure you know the story of the moon."

Brightmoon nodded before finding the moon, hidden by the clouds.

"That's where the spirits of our ancestors go. Their spirits are what make the night sky shine so bright, because even when the moon is gone, there is still light."

Screeheart nodded. "Yes. But I have a feeling no one told you the story of the lights in the ocean."

Brightmoon tilted her head, her ears pricked as she looked at Screeheart, curious.

"Long ago, far past the memory of our ancestors, the moon began to fade. The cats of the cliffs, with no allegiance to any clan but only to their own ancestors who lived in the moon, grew frightened and scared. They began fighting and warring, believing that if they could prove their own group was more powerful, their ancestors would return. However, the moon kept getting darker, and the fighting only grew. Finally, after moons of fighting, one cat noticed something. A blue light was shining far in the ocean's horizon. When she told the other cats of this, they came to see if it was true. As they saw this light, one among these cats, old and wise, realized that it was their ancestors and the sprits of those who had died in this fight. Their ancestors had abandoned them because of their fighting and killing. The gathered cats quickly made a pact to join into groups, clans, guided by a code that would not cause endless violence ever again. Believing they had done what MoonClan requested, they waited and watched, hopeful that the light in the ocean would fade, and the moon would return. The light did eventually fade, but when the moon returned, it was not as bright. With horror they realized that their pact had not done enough. Their ancestors, would never return."

Brightmoon blinked at Screeheart in shock. "Is that how our clans were formed?"

Screeheart shook her head. "I don't know. That's not why I was told the story."

"Then why were you told the story?" Brightmoon questioned.

Screeheart hesitated, then looked Brightmoon in the eyes as she answered. "To know that sometimes we fail. And we don't know what we did wrong."

Brightmoon didn't stay long.

Reassured that her clan was safe, the young she-cat went back inside, most likely to see how her kits were doing.

Screeheart looked back to the ocean, her ears pricked as she listened to the waves crashing and seagulls crying. If it wasn't for the harsh wind stirring the sea into a frenzy and filling the air with moisture it might be bearable outside.

Maybe Brightmoon and the other queens would bring their kits outside; watching with sharp eyes to make sure that their kits didn't venture too close to the cliff's edge. Dolphintail and the other elder would make their way out, finding the Fallen Rock and sunning themselves as much as they could. The apprentices would be running on the paths and jumping between the rocks while the warriors would be twitching their whiskers and ruminating on "the good old days" when they used to do the same. The clan would feel united and safe.

Screeheart only remembered one or two days like that from her own life. One while she was a kit and another during her apprenticeship. There had been no time for peace and relaxation with the possibility of attack looming over the camp like a coming storm.

That time was past and now kits like Cragkit and Wavekit didn't have to fear when their mothers and father left on patrol.

Screeheart stared into the horizon.

Cragkit and Wavekit would never have to fear they would live without their family.

Screeheart remained outside until a light rain began to fall.

When she entered the camp she was surprised to find Cragkit waiting for her.

His bushy white tail was wrapped around his paws in a way that reminded Screeheart of the young kit's mother. She pricked her ears as she approached and watched the kit fidgeted before meowing.

"Why does Brightmoon ask you when a storm is coming? My father can tell, and so can other warriors, so why does she always ask you?" Cragkit looked puzzled.

Screeheart's whiskers twitched and she answered. "With your father, I'm sure you know what a Stormwatcher is?"

"A Stormwatcher is a cat who's been taught how to look at the clouds and the waves to tell when a storm is coming."

"Did you know it was originally a position in the clan? Like a medicine cat?" Cragkit's eyes lit up and he shook his head 'no'. "Well, it was. The Watcher of the Storms. It was one of the most sought after positions in the clan since storm's are a very important part of our life. The arrival of a storm will signal when patrols can go out, and knowing how long it might last tells the fishers how much prey they need to catch. To be a Watcher of the Storms was the highest honor. Until one day, many moon ago, a storm came in. The current Watcher of the Storms noticed the signs too late and decided, against his leaders decision, to go out and gather the patrols himself. He only had one more patrol left when the storm became too much. Him, along with the four other cats on the patrol, were lost to the seas. The Watcher had yet to select a successor, so there was no suitable replacement. Except for the tom's sister, who he had picked up nearly everything he knew. Seeing the danger in having only cat knowing the secrets of the storms, any cat who showed a talent for the skill received the training. However, it is typically the oldest Stormwatcher whom the leader will listen too. That is why Brightmoon always seeks my judgement. I have lived through many storms, Cragkit, and it only becomes easier to spot them."

The answer apparently satisfied the kit since he scampered away within a few heartbeats.

Screeheart snorted before walking back to the elder's den.

 _Kits._

Later that night that Dolphintail slipped into the den and sat next to Screeheart.

"How many cats alive still remember Fracture?"

Screeheart titled her head then sighed. "I would say very few."

"Who will remember it when you're gone?"

"No one. And no one needs to."

"Yes. They do." Dolphintail looked deep into Screeheart's eyes. "We're no longer the clans we one were, and if no one remembers that, we'll make the same mistakes again. I wasn't even born when the fighting began and I was already retired before the fighting stopped. Only five cats know the truth about the Fracture, and only one of them is still alive. I don't think you want this truth to die with you."

Screeheart growled. "Maybe I don't. But it's my story to tell, and you're not ready to hear it."

Dolphintail snorted. "Who is? When will I be? On your deathbed?"

"No." Screeheart found Cragkit playing with his sister as their mother scolded them and told them to come back to the nursery. "I'm not telling you the story Dolphintail. I've already found a cat who will listen. One who will understand why everything happened the way it did. And why it all could have been avoided."

Dolphintail seemed unsatisfied with the answer but let it be.

Screeheart would tell someone her story. But only once she was in MoonClan, and a tiny kit became a warrior.

* * *

 **The drunnies are working very hard on the next chapter. To keep them fed, drop a review.**

 **See you next time honey badgers!**


	2. Chapter One

**A/N: Chapter One is straight ahead. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, ya'll brighten my day.**

* * *

 _It was a dark and stormy night. The nights to follow would not be much different._

* * *

The rain pelted down on the rocks, harsh winds and raging waves crashed against the cliffs in an unrelenting fury. Three cats sprinted across a small path, squinting their eyes as the rain bit at their fur and eyes and paws. A yelp sounded as the smallest cat in the middle slipped.

"Minnowpaw!" the dark tabby tom flipped with ease and reached forward to snap his jaws around the apprentice's scruff. "Pearlfur, help," the tom hissed, muffled.

The third cat reached forward and helped haul the apprentice back onto the path.

Shaken, Minnowpaw huddled near the cliff's wall, turning his gaze from the rocks and crashing waves he almost fell in.

"Minnowpaw," the tabby gently nudged his apprentice with his nose. "You're okay, but we won't be if we stay here. The storm is only getting stronger and if we stay the waves are going to wash us away as they get bigger. We need to go, _now_."

"Stormdusk, be gentle," Pearlfur scolded before turning to Minnowpaw. "Little one, we need to go, come on, just stand up. One step in front of the other. We're right here."

Under Pearlfur's gentle encouragement Minnowpaw slowly stood.

The she-cat purred. "That's great. Now we need to hurry."

Starting slowly, the three cats eventually picked up speed, rushing through the cliffs, though not at the same pace. When they reached a series of ledges in the cliffs, Stormdusk jumped over them without a second thought then glanced back. Minnowpaw was jumping from on ledge to the next, pausing in between before he moved forward. Pearlfur was encouraging from behind as she followed the pace he set.

Stormdusk's tail lashed angrily. The two other cats eventually made it the other side and Stormdusk didn't hesitate before he began sprinting again. The path started to tilt upward, with more ledges and one steep wall they had to climb up. By the time they reached the the large stones that hid the entrance to their camp, all three of them were panting and utterly drenched.

They padded single-file though the narrow entrance. Once they were inside however, the roof of the cave soared above them. Underneath the Rock Fall, a vertical rock pile of rocks the leader addressed the clan on, a group of warriors were picking through the small prey pile. Stormdusk approached and sent a nod to his clanmates. When he looked down he noticed that all there was were two pathetic fish and what he believed was a seagull.

"The storm came in too fast," Leafheart mewed. He glanced at his mate, Sweetmoon, then at the other gathered warriors. "Sandpath's hunting patrol hasn't come back yet, and they were headed for the Swallowing Beach."

The mood of the gathering cats plummeted. Swallowing Beach. It was named for the fact it was the beach first to flood if a storm hit. And the countless lives it had claimed.

"Sandpath is one of the best storm watchers I've seen," Sweetmoon spoke. Everyone glanced at their leader. "She would have seen the storm coming and turned back. The storm is most likely slowing them down."

Stormdusk nodded with the others before he motioned with his muzzle toward the food pile.

"What are we going to do about prey?"

Sweetmoon's whiskers twitched as she deliberated. "The queens and kits will be fed first. Fishers will share some. We will have to save half of the pile. Based on what Cragfoot said, this storm may last up to four sunrises."

A hiss passed though the group. Despite Cragfoot's advanced age, the elder was rarely wrong when it came to storm predictions.

"We will just have to wait out the storm," Riverdust whispered.

The cats nodded.

It was all they could do.

—

"Falconwing is in labor!"

Heads jerked up all around the camp clearing.

Apprentices who were practicing on the ledges and rocks around their den stopped. Warrior's faces appeared as they climbed out of their den and up the rocks that blocked it's entrance. Elders glanced down from the entrance to their den which barely rose above the cave floor. Sweetmoon exited her den, to jump down the Rock Fall.

Falconwing was having her kits.

Normally, the arrival of new life would be rejoiced by the clan. Now, the storm had raged for three days and showed no signs of letting up. Sandpath was in the medicine cat den having her broken leg treated while the other members of the patrol were on the verge of sickness.

Splashlight, was slipping past the rock that hid the nursery's entrance to help the queen give birth. Stormdusk raced to the nursery's entrance but Riversong gave him a firm glare.

"She will be fine. Splashlight has delivered plenty of kits." The she-cat turned back to watching over her younger siblings while her mother sat by Stormdusk and rested her tail gently on his shoulder.

"Falconwing is a strong warrior. The finest fighter I know. She'll do wonderfully," Waterlily reassured.

Stormdusk nodded. If there were two cats he trusted in, it was the cats who he grew up beside. One of his littermates died before he saw his third sunrise. The other had fallen to what too many young apprentices before her had: A storm came and under the unrelenting barrage she slipped from a path and plummeted into the ocean. His mother never overcame her grief and his father put all of his anger into the war. It was no surprise when halfway through his apprenticeship, when a battle patrol came back, it was with news his father died. His mother died too soon after. Waterlily and Rushingbrook had been there for him. While Rushingbrook was already clearly besotted with his future mate, Waterlily was wild and untamed. With Stormdusk grieving and Waterlily a instigator, the three quickly became known as troublemakers.

At least until Stormdusk noticed Falconwing.

The beautiful, fierce, sour she-cat he fell for.

Despite the sharp comments and her stubbornness, Stormdusk wasn't deterred. After moons of doing everything he could to surprise and win her favor, Falconwing admitted on a patrol that she had grown a little fond of how much like a young apprentice he acted whenever she was around. Her asking him to become her mate was one of the best days of his life. Rushingbrook had teased him and Waterlily, now a calm and quiet cat, congratulated him.

Now his mate was in the nursery, snarling and yowling as she gave birth to their kits. Waterlily sat beside him the whole time and the two were eventually joined by Rushingbrook. After what felt like moons, Coralfall peaked her head out.

"I have four kits who want to meet their father."

Without a second thought Stormdusk rushed into the den, his friends purring in amusement.

Falconwing was laying on her side, sweating and tired but clearly exuberant. When she noticed him there she purred.

"One tom and three she-kits." The pride was evident in her voice.

"All healthy," Splashlight added.

"They're beautiful," Stormdusk meowed as he curled up beside their mate.

"They better be, with handsome cats like us at their parents." Falconwing flicked her tail at him teasingly.

"What should we name them?"

"Stonekit," Falconwing gently nudged the dark gray tabby she-kit. "For the stones that protect us."

Stormdusk nodded in agreement. "Seakit." His tail brushed the dark tabby tom. "For the waters that feed us."

"Whalekit," Falconwing sniffed at the gray and white kit. "You stood outside the camp as long as it took till you could show me a whale."

"You'd never seen one before," Stormdusk grumbled.

Falconwing's whiskers twitched in amusement before she nuzzled the creamy-gray she-kit. "Screekit."

Stormdusk's breath left his body.

"For the kit that should have lived."

Somewhere, submerged in the waves and sand, the body of their first kit was buried. It had broken Falconwing's heart more than his, but she had never let her grief consume her. She vowed that one day, she would have more kits, and she would give them the world.

"I love it."

Stormdusk twined his tail with hers and they stayed like that, looking down on their beautiful kits as the storm raged outside their camp.

* * *

 _It was a dark and stormy night. The nights to follow, would not be much different._

 _But not at first._

* * *

 **The drunnies are working very hard on the next chapter. To keep them fed, drop a review.**

 **See you next time honey badgers!**


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